Number 12
by Slakingoff
Summary: Vanzetti D. Leon, an unruly young man from the West Blue sets out to sea to find a surgeon skilled enough to treat a young girl's unique injury. All the while he must come to terms with his past and his newfound love for battle and pain. With the marines always around the corner he is forced to set sail for the only safe place left, the worlds most dangerous ocean, the Grand Line.


Hi there. I'm Slakingoff, and this is a story I wrote.

This chapter is 2257 words long.

Story so far is 2257 words long.

 **Warning!**

 **One Piece backstories in future chapters**

 **That is all.**

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.

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The gentle sway of the waves rocked an old rowboat back and forth under the fading light of the setting sun. Every now and then a cloud would cast its shadow onto the boat and its riders. Sitting in the rowboat was a young man with messy golden hair, whistling a tune as he rowed, and a younger girl in a cloak on the floor of the boat, sleeping.

The young man, preoccupied with his thoughts and whistling, didn't notice the ship that slowly approached them. It was a barque with two square-rigged masts and a mizzen-mast rigged fore-and-aft aft-most. It flew no flag and no decorations made it known whose ship it was as it silently crawled towards the rowboat, only the occasional unavoidable creaking could give it away. No shouts, laughing or cheering came from on deck, and the jury-rigged crows nest appeared empty. It seemed almost abandoned, if not for the small corrections constantly made to its heading. Like a dizzy warthog it waited patiently near the horizon for the sun to go down, zigzagging ever forward for its pray. It didn't need to wait long, as soon as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon the ship corrected its heading once more, straight for the rowboat.

Despite ample time, the young man had never once turned his head as the ship approached. He remained unaware of the threat speeding towards him, until it was looming over him, caught in the very last ray of light before being plunged in darkness. He quickly turned his head, but it was too late to get out of the way. As fast as he could, he grabbed the girl and jumped, right before the rowboat broke into splinters.

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Hearing the boat break on the bow of the ship seemed the catalyst for a changed atmosphere and cheers broke out onboard the ship. Clinking of bottles could be heard as laughter and good-natured yells pierced the quiet of the early night. Unbeknowst to the people on board the barque, the pair from the rowboat were not only alive, but clutching onto the side of the ship.

On the prow of the ship, a very large man gulped down the last of his bottle before standing up and addressing the crew. He was fat, with a vainy, bloated red nose and bloodshot brown eyes. He had on a captains cloak with numerous flintlocks tied beneath it and a cutlass in a scabbard down one leg of his pants. He had scruff on his chin and neck, but otherwise his face was smooth like a pane of glass. His hair on the other hand was long and clumpy, forming into thick vine-line locks from the dirt and grease and saltwater it was constantly in contact with. The color was hard to determine as their really was no way of knowing what was dirty and what was prematurely graying from the mans utter lack of hygiene.

He looked over the crew with a scowl until one by one they noticed him and went quiet. Without changing his expression, he threw both hands up into the air, the bottle flying out of his hand and into the ocean as his face split into a grin and he cheered.

"We did it, boys. They didn't know what hit 'em. This was just the first test run, soon we'll be dodging cannonballs and raiding! We can easily outrun the Marines with this fine ship!" The dirty and intoxicated man climbed up onto the railing and kept his balance by grabbing a rope. "This ship will make me, 'Dirty' Montroe, feared across all of the West Blue!" He was about to take a sip from his bottle when he realised he'd thrown it into the sea, and it had been empty regardless. "Throw me a bottle," he ordered his subordinates, and soon someone chucked a bottle his way. He managed to grab hold of the neck, and pulled the cork out with his teeth. He raised the bottle high into the air. "To our future wealth! To the Dirty Pirates! Cheers!" And he downed the whole thing.

Meanwhile, near the stern of the ship, on the poopdeck, the young man from the rowboat watched 'Dirty' Montroe give his little speech. The young girl was nowhere to be seen.

There seemed to be about twenty crewmembers on deck, all of them gathered around 'Dirty' Montroe at the fore of the ship. None of them noticed the young man as he quickly blended in with the small crowd of people. He grabbed a flintlock off a man already in a drunken coma and another of the deck someone had dropped. He made his way back out of the crowd, were he took aim at the obvious captain of the vessel with one gun, and pointed the other towards the crowd.

He fired into the crowd, catching a short man in the neck. He stumbled forward before collapsing. The rest of the pirates, including Montroe, turned to see who fired. Standing there, with one flintlock in each hand was a relatively tall young man with messy golden hair and green eyes. He wore a green shirt, open from top to bottom exposing various scars and discolored patches of skin that nearly hid his toned physique, loose, blue pants with a belt, and black leather shoes.

"Are you the captain of this ship, 'Dirty' Montroe?" The young man said.

Montroe looked at the golden haired man with a sneer. He answered him, slurring his words. "Yeah, I am. The better question is, who are you, and what are you doing on board my ship?"

"My name's Vanzetti D. Leon, and I'm taking this ship." The sound of a single gunshot could was heard as 'Dirty' Montroe spit up blood from the bullet lodged in his oversized gut. The other pirates all watched with increasing panic as their captain wobbled unsteadily, before he fell of the railing and crashed face first onto the deck. The pirates turned their heads as one back to Leon, who stood there with a smoking flintlock in his hand. They looked at one another before a relatively sober short man walked forward with a large hammer in his hand.

Leon watched him cautiously as he threw both guns to the ground and took a fighting stance. The short man, who had brown curly hair adressed Leon. "What do you plan to do now? Fight all of us? Its nineteen of us versus one of you." He grabbed the hammer with both hands and readied it for a blow.

Leon smiled. "How many of you could 'Dirty' there take out on his own?" Leon watched the pirates closely and was pleased to see how many of them swallowed hard, took a step back or otherwise showed obvious signs of fear. The short man with the hammer however didn't seem faced.

"He could take out eighteen of us on his own." The man smiled back at Leon. "He just had a sort of charm. He made a better leader than me, that's the only reason he was captain." He charged at Leon.

Leon watched closely as the man closed the distance between them, then when the hammer was mid-swing, he stepped forward and grabbed the head of the hammer with his left hand as he punched the handle with his right and broke it in two. With the head in his left hand he spun with the moment still in it and backhanded the short man with the head of the hammer. The man went crashing into the railing of the ship, were he remained as blood and broken teeth flowed out of his mouth.

Leon took his fighting stance again. "Who's next?" All of the remaining pirates dropped their weapons and just shrugged, though fear remained in their features.

"He was a lousy captain anyway."

"He lied to us all the time."

"He spent all our loot on booze and cheap hookers."

"Yeah, the expensive ones had too high standards."

"You shot the first mate anyway."

"We've got nothing better to do, really."

"So long as we get our share."

Leon could honestly say he was dissapointed. He had expected more fight out of these pirates. He was regretting shooting the captain, maybe he would have been tougher. Though, as drunk as he had been that was admittedly unlikely. Leon didn't relax though, it could still be a ruse. The pirates watched him as closely as their inebriation would allow, but some of them seemingly got bored and started drinking again.

It wasn't long before all the remaining pirates were back to drinking merrily, clinking their bottles together and laughing. Leon watched them and was considering joining them when a large, hairy hand suddenly swept three pirates off their feet.

"You... You..."

It was Montroe. He was still alive and struggling to get back to his feet. He coughed up blood as he rose to all four, his captain's hat which lay on the floor getting splashed with blood. "You..." With great effort, and more coughing up blood, he got to one knee. "You... You ..." He raised his head and stared hatefully at his crew. "You traitors! How da-!" He had to pause to cough up more blood. "How dare you betray me! And you!" He looked at Leon. "I will show you why I deserve to be feared!" He pulled out two flintlocks from his jacket and pointed them in Leon's direction.

Leon, despite the danger of the situation, couldn't help the smile that took over his face. "You're a tough one aren't you," Leon stated. He would have loved to wait for him to come to him, but the man had guns, so Leon reluctantly ran at him.

Montroe sneered and spat more blood out of his mouth. "I've had enough of you," he said and shot both flintlicks at Leon and missed, because he was seeing double from both bloodloss and the fall off the railing. He took a step back as he readied two more flintlocks, his boots stirring the puddle of blood underneath him. He shot again, and again missed both shots. He roared in frustration, grabbed the hilt of his cutlass and pulled it out of its scabbard. He swung it at Leon, intending to open him up from shoulder to pelvis.

Leon saw the swing coming and sidestepped it. He felt the sword slide down his back and took another step before he lost a glute. The sword struck the deck and imbedded itself deep in several boards. Grabbing the opportunity, Leon kicked Montroe's fingers, and the man let go of his sword with a yelp. He stumbled backwards away from his sword clutching his broken fingers.

That's when the true opportunity presented itself. Leon sprinted up to him with a grin on his face.

"LEON.." Leon called out.

Montroe looked on in fear as Leon ran at him. He tried to punch him with his good hand but missed and Leon got up close. Right before colliding with the larger man, Leon seemed to come to an instant stop and kicked Montroe in the side of the knee. Montroe screamed in pain as he fell down onto his now dislocated knee.

"SPECIAL!"

Leon spun in place and leaned forward from coming to a stop so quickly. He clenched his right hand and with all the momentum from his run and spin transferred into his fist he punched Montroe in the face. The man was sent flying into the foremost mast. The mast creaked dangerously, but remained upright. Like the short man before him, blood and broken teeth ran in rivers out of 'Dirty' Montroe's mouth.

Leon turned around to look at the crew. Many of couldn't help but gape at the sight of their now former captain beaten with seemingly so little effort. Leon didn't even look winded as he put his hands on his hips and looked his new crew over.

"Alright men! New heading!" Leon said with a wide grin on his face. The men looked at each other and at Leon. None of them said a word at first, but after one of them started it, the rest of them mirrored it and soon all of them were cheering.

"CAP-TAIN LE-ON! CAP-TAIN LE-ON! CAP-TAIN LE-ON!"

Leon closed his eyes and laughed. He basked in the glory of becoming a captain for a moment. He breathed in the air of victory, heavy with the smell of booze, and exhaled. The crew continued to chant, afraid to stop at this point, but they didn't need to wait long as Leon soon gestured for them to stop. He opened his eyes and called out, "PEM! It's safe to come out now! I'm the new captain," he said with a silly grin on his face.

The pirate crew looked at Leon strangely. A moment later, a young girl climbed over the railing. and looked Leon dead in the eye, her face impassive. "No. Really?" Leon simply grinned wider.

The men looked between Leon and the new arrival, but just shrugged in the end and cheered once more.

Leon took a deep breath. " Our new heading," he yelled with a wide grin. "Is the 80th branch Marine Secondary Base!

"EEEEEEHHHH!?"

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Tell me what you thought of this first chapter, I value all criticism. I beg of you to not simply tell me 'This is bad.' Rather tell me 'This is bad because...' Thank you for your consideration.


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